About Last Night
by jarran
Summary: Liz wakes up in Red's hotel room bed, unsure about what happened the night before. She has to face the important question: Did they or did they not have sex? A question Red seems none the merrier to avoid answering...
1. Chapter 1

**_About Last Night_**

When Liz woke and opened her eyes, she had no idea where she was. The egg-yolk colored ceiling wasn't one she recognized. She sat up slowly, inspecting her surroundings with confusion. She was wrapped up in beige Egyptian cotton sheets. She turned her head and stared at the dresser beside the bed. A dark grey fedora hat rested on top of it near the lamp, along with a pair of colored, amber-lensed sunglasses.

_Where the hell was she?_

Then something about the style of the hat seemed familiar to her, and her mind began racing. Suddenly she remembered, and she panicked. Raymond Reddington's hat. She couldn't remember everything, of course. But she did remember coming to him after finding out he was right about her husband. Breaking down and weeping to him, while Reddington held her close and offered her the comfort she needed.

_Tom. Oh, shit._

She hadn't gone home to him last night. She must have slept over in the luxurious, five-star hotel Red was staying at.

She sat up straighter against the pillows, trying to work everything out without stressing too much. She only remembered coming to Red. Everything else was beyond her recollection. She couldn't even remember getting here. Her eyes fell down to her clothes- her leather jacket, her jeans, her shirt, her socks - that were laying like an accusing pile on the carpet beside the side of the bed where she was sleeping.

_Since when did she remove all her clothes last night and decide to hop into bed with Red? What on earth had she been thinking?_

_Red. _She turned and looked behind her shoulder, finding the right side of the bed near her empty. The only sign that told her he had definitely slept there next to her last night, was how crumpled and wrinkled the sheets were. So they had slept together in the same bed. Liz wasn't wearing any clothes... No socks, no shirt, no trousers. Just her undergarments. Did he sleep next to her naked- or _what?_ Did they snuggle? Did they, dare she even think it, have sex last night?

Swallowing down the sense of panic that wouldn't seem to leave her, she climbed out of the covers shakily, and walked over towards the narrow doorway that led into another part of the hotel room.

_Where was Red, anyway?_ She wondered. She considered searching for him, but the air that blew on her from around the room was cold and made her skin break out in goose pimples. Now wasn't the time to walk around clad in just lingerie.

Biting her lip, she looked around the room again, her eyes settling on a white shirt that was draped over an empty armchair near the window. She grabbed it and slid it over her arms, buttoning it all the way up to cover her cleavage modestly. The shirt was too big and long enough that it floated past her knees and that was good enough for her. Wearing clothing made her feel instantly better about the unexpected circumstance she had woken to this morning.

She passed out quietly into the hallway on the balls of her feet against the carpet, and peeked her head in through a doorway. It was the bathroom, and she huffed to herself incredulously under her breath as she slipped inside and closed the door on herself. The bathroom put her one at home with Tom to shame. It was covered in white, sparkling tiles and the claw-foot bathtub was larger than the one they had. It was truly typical of Raymond Reddington to have the best room in a hotel.

She went to the toilet and washed her hands in the sink then caught her reflection in the mirror. She looked... different. Her hair was messy and her lips appeared swollen. Her eyelids were puffy, but that was probably due to crying last night. She ran water under the tap and cupped her hands underneath it, splashing her face. Then she used a white, fluffy towel from the rack to wipe her face dry, her stomach coiled in anxiety.

In order to distract herself, she pulled open the bathroom cabinet curiously and looked inside. Razors, men's cologne- probably belonging to Red. She began to feel a little sick as she closed the cabinet and stared at her reflection again.

"Calm down, Keen," she muttered to herself. She forced a smile at her reflection, but it only came back to her looking like a grimace. "Nothing probably even happened last night. You're getting yourself worked up over nothing."

This reminded her, oddly enough, of one of her wild nights spent at Quantico. First night her dorm mate convinced her to do vodka and tequila shots all throughout the middle of the night. She had woken the next morning with a shocking hangover, not entirely sure what had happened the night before. The only difference now was that she didn't have a hangover, and it had involved possibly sleeping with a middle-aged fugitive who was meant to be her working partner.

Never in her wildest dreams did she predict she would ever be caught in such a crazy situation.

Exhaling deeply through her mouth, Liz pulled the hair band out of her hair and attempted to make her hair more decent. Then she realized she couldn't exactly stay shut away in the bathroom all day, avoiding her problems. No, she had to face her problems head-on and deal with them as they came. Straightening her shoulders and wringing her hands at her sides, Liz mustered all her courage into heading out of the bathroom.

Now she just had to find Red and ask him the unavoidable question: Did we, or didn't we last night?

She passed down the narrow hallway and found Red sitting at the dining room table. She couldn't see his face exactly; He was holding the day's addition of the newspaper directly over his face, so she couldn't see him from where she stood, while he read. After a moment of hesitation and her stomach swirling with nerves, she cleared her throat gently.

At the sound, Red lowered the newspaper and plopped it down on the table to look at her. The calmness in his expression was irritating. "Good morning, Lizzie. I take it you slept well?" His eyes ran down the crinkled dress shirt she was wearing and Liz suddenly felt like throwing in the towel and running. _Who did the shirt belong to anyway? Surely not him._ He pulled up his shirtsleeve to look at his wrist watch. "You were asleep for roughly over nine hours. How impressive."

"What happened last night?" Liz asked, going in for the kill. "I don't remember coming here. _Here_, as in this _fancy hotel_ you're staying at. In fact, I don't remember... anything at all aside from when I came to you about Tom. Care to fill me in?"

"Oh, it's a long story, Lizzie."

She waited, a hand on her hip, while he leaned forward in the chair and started reading the newspaper again, his lips pursed. It was almost as if she wasn't standing there. She looked down at the page herself, irritated at what seemed to be getting all his attention. A crossword puzzle. He was attempting to do a crossword puzzle. A pen was resting on the table near a cup and saucer of freshly brewed, steaming tea. _A pen._ It was very tempting for her not to grab the damned thing and wham it into one of his main arteries till he answered her.

"Well?" she pressed. "I'm waiting?"

"Lizzie, I seem to be stuck with this one word." He looked up at her, his expression telling nothing of what had happened last night between the two of them. "Eleven letters. Another term for when two adults engage in sex."

The blood drained from her face and her brows furrowed. _Was that meant to mean something to her?_

Her heart was beating like a mad thing in her chest. She tried to sound casual, as she supplied, "Uh, _intercourse_ maybe?"

"Intercourse?" Red seemed to mull the word over out loud. Then with a tilt to his head in consideration, he picked up his pen and scribbled it down on the paper. "Well done, Lizzie. Intercourse it is."

"Speaking of, uh..._ intercourse, _do you wanna tell me what happened last night?"

When he ignored her and returned his attention back to his crossword puzzle, his expression focused and contemplative, Liz fell into an embarrassed, blistering silence. _What was she doing, really?_

"Well, anyway, I'm gonna go get dressed," she said awkwardly, gesturing back towards the bedroom. "Why am I even bothering with this when I know I'm not going to get a direct answer from you anyway?" she muttered, mostly to herself, in agitation.

Red just went on as if he never heard her and picked up his cup of tea peacefully, as if _Liz_ was the intruder in his early morning crossword puzzle ritual.

When Liz returned into the bedroom and started pulling on her clothes, her mind was still restless and unsettled. Had they or hadn't they had sex last night? To her, it was an easy, straight-forward question. So why the hell wasn't he going to answer her and put her mind at ease?

_Infuriating son of a bitch..._

She was just pulling down her shirt over her head when Red entered the bedroom like a tiger silent on his feet as not to alert his prey. Liz yipped and covered herself, squeezing her legs together. He paid her not one ounce of attention despite her flustered state; He simply made a beeline towards the dresser. Realizing she was being stupid, she ignored his presence with some effort and slipped her trousers on. Who cared if he saw her in her panties? He probably had seen a whole lot more of her than that last night.

And intercourse on a child-friendly crossword puzzle? _Really?_

**A/N: Was this stupid or something I should continue with more chapter? :P Please pardon any mistakes or grammar issues :)  
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	2. Chapter 2

_**First, I own nothing to do with the Blacklist clearly. I'm just enjoying having fun with the characters, as silly as it is.**_

_**Second, I want to thank you all so much. I was so shocked by the response, and it means a lot to me. I do hope you find some enjoyment in this one. Again, I apologize about grammar- not being a native English speaker. All mistakes are my own, but I hope it isn't too distracting from the story.**_

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_**Chapter Two**_

"Why do you always wear hats?"

Liz chided herself internally over the verbal-diarrhea that suddenly plagued her. She had no idea what was wrong with her this morning.

Red didn't look in her direction as he adjusted the brim of the hat above his eyes. Then seemingly unsatisfied with it, he made a low grunting noise and tossed the hat on the unmade bed carelessly. "Well, that's an odd question, Lizzie. Why are you always stroking that scar on your wrist?"

She looked down and realized her fingers were doing exactly that, in circling the horrible red scar trailing her wrist. Liz paused uncertainly and flexed her fingers, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She thought she looked rather nauseous. It had nothing to do with drinking alcohol last night, that she was sure. Partly it was due to the unknown something that might have happened last night. Mostly she was frightened Tom would realize something about her was different and automatically know she had slept and laid close to another man in bed last night. What if he smelt it on her?

"I don't know." She shrugged. "I guess I like doing it."

"Then you have your answer to the hat question, Lizzie." He finally turned and met her eyes. "I wear hats because I like doing so."

"Okay, that's a fair enough reason, I guess."

She watched curiously as Red rummaged around in the drawer, pulling out a striped emerald-green tie. He pulled the collar of his shirt up, slipped the tie around his neck, and Liz found something oddly entrancing about watching the man dress himself. He was just so different from Tom- who hardly wore ties- although she felt instantly terrible comparing the two. They were entirely different men... entirely different species, almost.

_Oh, God. What happened last night? _She wondered desperately as she stared at the man preoccupied with dressing himself near her. _Why can't I remember? Of all the things not to remember... this has to be one of them. _

She tried to think back hard on the night's events, only coming up short. Weeping in Reddington's arms. Not her husband's arms, but Red's. Red saying her name, over and over, assuring her strongly that she would be okay, no matter what came out of her incredibly difficult situation with Tom. Liz finding unexpected comfort in his embrace. Never wanting to be released from his hold. And then... that was... it. She woke up in his hotel room bed, with half of her clothes off. She wasn't completely one-hundred percent certain he had slept beside her, but... the wrinkles in the sheets were evident enough.

And the intercourse remark. Oh, _the intercourse._

Was that meant to be some hint? Surely she would have remembered, wouldn't she? After all, you don't just wake up the next morning completely forgetting having sex with someone, did you?

She stared at Red despairingly a moment longer, while he was sliding his arms through a black sleeveless vest, realizing his tie was all crooked. It was just wrong. All _wrong_. It shouldn't have bothered her so much, but it did.

"You can't go out in public looking like that," she muttered under her breath, the words falling off her tongue without her control. _Jesus, why should she even care whether his tie was wrong or not? What was she, his wife or lover? _But it was too late, and she couldn't take the words back, even if she tried. Red had heard them and was staring down at his choice of outfit in confusion. "Your tie is just all crooked," she explained, almost inaudibly, stepping closer towards him.

She hesitated, her hands hanging uselessly near him. She didn't want to come across as rude, but it was seriously annoying her for unknown reasons she couldn't begin to fathom. She glanced at his face nervously as he slipped in closer, and she caught the reassuring smile he gave her. It was all that she needed to just go ahead and get it done.

"I've just come to learn how fastidious you are about clothing," she huffed out, in defense for herself. "And it was seriously bugging me. I don't even know why."

She was surprised by how much taller Red seemed, when she wasn't wearing any shoes.

"Thank you, Lizzie," he said, his voice deep and soft. She caught herself staring at the muscles twitching in his neck as she slipped the end of the tie lower than the tail. Though it made her feel immature, she felt too nervous to look at anything above the neck.

"No problem," she said, trying to sound casual. "My father used to get me to do this for him all the time, so I'm used to it." She knew how much Red enjoyed her talking about her father. "There was a song that we even used to sing so I wouldn't forget all the steps."

"Sing it for me, Lizzie." She suspected he was making fun of her, but when she finally let her eyes lift to his face, she found him studying her features seriously.

"You know, I don't think I will. I can hardly sing, and it's really stu-"

Red interrupted her quietly, "I want to hear it."

He was putting her in a corner, and it made Liz suddenly feel weak. The man was probably used to getting his way, so she practically had no choice.

Clearing her throat gently and feeling her cheeks burn, Liz began with the song and all the steps she had memorized along with it.

"Gathering his senses about him, the rabbit bounded away with the fox snapping at his cotton tail. Once around the tree, the fox chased the rabbit." She wrapped the end of the tie around the tail, almost mechanically, "Twice around the tree the little rabbit fled with the quick gray fox close behind. Trying to shake the persistent fox, the rabbit scooted under a bush." She pushed the end of the tie between the loop, feeling like a school teacher singing to a little boy, "With a giant leap, the little rabbit cleared the top of a big round log and dove right into the safety of his cool, dark hole..."

Liz couldn't escape the feeling of wanting to dissolve through the carpet out of sight after she was done. With tingling ears, she straightened his tie and ran the palm of her hand down the lining of the silken, smooth fabric. She stood back slightly to evaluate her work and then, pleased, she helped flatten the collars of his shirt down with care.

"There we go," she breathed gently. "All better now."

She let her eyes roam up to his face, noticing that same unidentifiable expression there that gave hardly anything away. But there was something hidden there in his shining grey eyes for her.

"Sometimes I wondered if my father did it on purpose. He'd come out with his tie all crooked, and he'd say, 'Butterball, how's my tie looking?" And I'd be like, 'Dad, your tie looks terrible. You can't go outside looking like that!' So he'd always get me to fix it for him while repeating the story of the rabbit and the fox." Her voice shook, as it always tended to do, whenever she mentioned her father Sam. It wasn't something she could control. "I'll always remember us doing that. How ridiculous, huh?"

"I think it's a lovely story, Lizzie."

"Yeah, well..." She shrugged and brought her eyes away from him with some effort. "He's gone now. I suppose I better stop talking about him as if he's still around."

"Even though he is gone, I'm sure he's still around, looking down on you, Lizzie. I'm sure he's proud of the daughter he's raised."

That was an unsettling thought. While Liz knew he meant that in a caring way, she hoped he wasn't around and had looked down on her last night, while she did heaven knows what with Red in bed. _God, if only she knew..._

"Are you all right, Lizzie? You look so stricken. Is it because it's hard to talk about the memories of your father?"

_Yes, no. Maybe. Mainly it's hard not knowing what we did last night. You know what happened, and I don't..._

She realized that was how it had always been between the two of them. Red was always the one privy to things she didn't know, while Liz was left meandering hopelessly in the dark for answers. Why should she be so surprised that that was how it was now?

"Are you ever going to tell me why it is that I actually slept here last night? How did I come to get into your hotel room? What did we do last night? Or do I have to start getting a little rough to get all the answers out of you?" Liz had meant it as a full warning for him to start disclosing what she couldn't remember of last night, only she could tell he didn't see it that way.

Like the infuriating son of a bitch that he was, Red actually dared to tilt his head back and laugh softly. "Oh, I believe that ship already sailed last night, Lizzie. You were enjoyably rough on me last night."

Liz stared him down, unimpressed. "Meaning what, exactly?"

_Oh God, he didn't mean foreplay in bed, did he?_

A million things crossed in her head at once. Seething remarks, curse words. She opened her mouth, fired and ready, then closed it up again. Her hand blindly found her wrist and she massaged her scar firmly with the tips of her fingers. Ah, now this was why she stroked her scar habitually. When she was placed in high stress situations.

"Tell me how I'm supposed to explain this to my husband!"

Red shrugged and turned to collect his hat off the bed. "I have full confidence in you, Lizzie. I'm sure you'll think of something." Unconcernedly, he turned his eyes on her. "If adequate explanations fail to come to you, you can always bring up the dead fake brother into the conversation."

Red was getting off on this, and Liz could tell. His eyes were singing.

"You're unbelievable, do you know that?" Her voice pitched to a higher level without her control, echoing around the room. "Why is this such an enjoyable game to you?"

His eyes flew down to her fingers that were rubbing her scar furiously. She couldn't seem to stop the movement, damn it. "Will you just calm down, Lizzie?" He spoke gently, as if he was the responsible parent and she was the child. "You, of all people, should know by now that shouting gets you nowhere. And will you stop that?" He stared pointedly at her fingers. "You're going to rub yourself so hard that you're going to bleed, my dear."

The laugh that erupted from her mouth sounded embarrassingly like an enraged bark from a dog. "Yeah, and I'm sure you'd love that, wouldn't you? Me bleeding?"

It happened so quickly she wasn't even sure it was real. In one sudden movement Red was standing in front of her, and then in the next his hand was grasping her wrist and he was bending down to press his mouth against her scar. His lips were hot, and it was open-mouthed, and it wasn't exactly the most unpleasant feeling on Liz. Something like warm liquid spread throughout her entire body.

"The hell," she gasped, wrenching her hand free.

She felt her face drain of all color as she stared up at Red as he straightened up. His face was unreadable, aside from his eyes that gave away some inkling into what he was feeling. They were shining with something similar to regret; Embarrassment that he had lost control completely and done something so against his invisible leash of self-restraint when it came to being around her.

And it had pretty much confirmed her worst fears. They had done it last night. Or had they?

Someone cleared their throat awkwardly near the doorway to the bedroom and Liz yelped in fear. Dembe was standing there, appraising the pair of them nervously. He nodded to Liz silently before focusing his attention on Red.

"Ah, excuse the interruption, but you have somewhere you need to be in half an hour, Raymond, sir."

As if nothing had even happened between the pair of them, Red strode out of the room with Dembe trailing behind him uncertainly. Liz stared after them, before shaking her head furiously. _How could a man be so... so... confusing?_ She grabbed her boots that were lying near the armchair and sat as she slid them on. When she found the two men standing around by the dining room table speaking in hushed voices, she cleared her throat loudly.

She made sure she kept her eyes on only Dembe, as she asked, as politely as she could, "Do you mind taking me home? I need to get home and change. I don't exactly want to turn up to work wearing the same clothes."

She watched Dembe as he looked at Red for counsel.

"Dembe won't mind taking you home, would you, my friend?"

She ignored Red as much as she could, but she knew fair well she wasn't deaf. She couldn't escape hearing that voice of his. He sounded completely composed.

"Of course not, Raymond, sir."

"Good. It's settled then."

Dembe looked her over expectantly. "Whenever you're ready, Ms. Keen."

"I'm ready now," Liz said firmly, anger still in her voice.

"Then it's bon voyage for now, my dear."

Ignoring Red, she pushed her way outside of the hotel room. Dembe followed her slowly, and when she turned to look at him, he was eyeing her warily like she was a stray and unpredictable animal.

"Did you have a good night, Ms. Liz?" He asked pleasantly, surprising her. Liz didn't think she had heard him speak so much before. Usually he kept quiet, lingering in the background.

"I would feel better if I knew what last night entailed..."

"Not to worry. You and Raymond seemed to have good fun last night. Raymond told me after that he hasn't slept like such a baby in over twenty years, because you exhausted him so. You must sleep with Raymond more often and make it a habit. Raymond seemed to enjoy spending the full night with you."

Liz sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. _Oh, wonderful. Now Dembe was in on it too, with the cryptic insinuations of what went down last night in Red's hotel room?_

**_Hope this wasn't a disappointment. :) Please let me know your thoughts!_**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you all so much for being so kind. I'm sorry I took so long to update this silly story! Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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_**Chapter Three**_

Liz made sure her movements were as quiet as possible as she unlocked the front door and slipped inside the house to get changed. At first, she hoped Tom had already left for work so she didn't have to explain anything of her whereabouts last night; An answer she didn't exactly know the full details on herself, thanks to both Reddington and Dembe withholding the information from her. She was just taking off her leather jacket and hanging it up on the rack near the front door, when she heard Tom bounding down the stairs. He was dressed and ready to leave, but it was obvious he had waited for her to arrive home. He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched her carefully, and all Liz could manage was to smile at him in a somewhat guilty way.

"Well, where were you?" Tom demanded, in a quiet but stressed voice.

_Oh, shit. Here it goes. _"I'm sorry, Tom. I can't tell you. But what I _can_ tell you, is that it was for work purposes."

"Liz, I was worried sick! I almost called the police and put out a missing person's report on you! I even called Ellie and asked her if you were with her."

"I wasn't with Ellie." _I wish I had only been with Ellie, but I was actually with Raymond Reddington._

"Yeah, obviously. She cleared that one up for me. Why didn't you come home?"

"It's... work related. It's classified information. I'm sorry."

"You had me up all night, yet you can't even tell me what you were doing? Don't I deserve that much from you, Liz?"

"Okay, fine." Without missing a beat, Liz said the first thing that came to her head, "There was stake-out. We had to pull an all-nighter in a surveillance van, me and my partner, another Agent at work. We were stuck there all night, and we just packed up to leave. I'm exhausted, I feel dead on my feet, and I really don't need to come home to this and get into it right now with you. And that's all that I can tell you."

"You didn't think of calling me so I didn't have to worry?"

"Babe, we're not allowed to use our phones. I never got the chance to call you. I'm sorry for worrying you, but I'm really fine. End of story."

"Yes, Liz, and I understand that now. But still, it doesn't explain the text message I got from you at, like, one in the morning."

Her mouth flopped open as she stared at him, uncomprehending. _Text message? Apparently she sent him a text message? Saying what?_

"Text message?" she repeated slowly, feeling her heart racing with dread. "What text message are you talking about, babe?"

"This one." Moodily, Tom pulled his cell phone out of his jean pocket and flipped it open, searching through his list of messages. Then finding the one she had supposedly sent him, he stepped closer to her to show her it:

_Not coming home. With more fascinating company than your whining ass will ever be._

Liz gasped and rubbed a hand over the side of her face. The message had 'Red' written all over it. She knew, without a doubt in her mind, that Red had been the one responsible for sending the text from her phone to Tom. The question now just was how on earth did Red manage to get ahold of her cell phone in the first place? Why would he do something like that to her?

"Do you really see me that way?" Tom asked her, hurt. "Am I really whiny to you? Is that truly what you think of me?"

Red had definitely taken this entire thing too far. She was keen to have more than just a little chat with him. "No, babe. Of course not," she sighed, although what Red had bothered to text him had definitely had a ring of truth to it. Still, Red and her were going to have to have a serious talk once she could see him. "You know I love you."

He closed his phone up with a sigh, slipping it back inside his pocket. "I've got to get to work," he told her softly, frowning. "I'll see you when I get home. Just next time, please give me the courtesy of calling me first so I won't stress too much."

"I will, babe. Have a great day being an awesome teacher to all your forth-grade students."

Tom seemed to perk up, finally. "You know I'm the best teacher."

_Yeah, I'm sure you are, considering your not even really a teacher,_ Liz thought. _You don't even go to school- the place where you are supposed to go, you liar._

He kissed her goodbye and Liz had to fight against the very tempting impulse to knee him one in the groin. She kept a fake smile on her face as she waved at him as he left through the front door. Then once he was gone, she raced upstairs and got herself changed into a fresh pair of clothes for work herself. She had no idea what was in store for her today, but she knew it would take her mind off whatever might have happened with Red last night while she slept over in his hotel room bed, hopefully.

She was just tying her hair up when her phone pinged with a new message. It was from Nick's Pizza, A.K.A Red:

_Outside your front door waiting to have breakfast with you._

She felt more pleased by that than she probably should have. At least, that would give them a chance to properly talk out what had happened last night, and Liz was determined to find out. She slipped on a pair of ankle boots, took her leather jacket off the rack and shrugged it back on over the blouse she was wearing, and as she stepped out the front door and locked up, she saw Red and Dembe waiting outside in the Mercedes-Benz, the car parked on the curb of her house address. When she climbed in and sat her bag on the floor by her feet, she looked at Red.

As usual, Red was dressed immaculately- in a white shirt, trousers and a buttoned vest, with the tie she had fixed for him earlier in the morning looking perfectly straight. She felt an odd sense of personal pride that she was the very reason his tie was straight and orderly, but it took some of the excitement out in seeing him again when she had only just seen him less than fifteen minutes ago. Her mouth went dry as she watched Red inspect the new clean clothes she was wearing with his eyes unnecessarily. _What? Did he really expect her to turn up to work wearing the exact same clothes she had worn last night while playing sleepover?_

"You said you wanted to have breakfast with me?"

Red finally turned his eyes away from her and Liz felt her body sag in relief as he stared outside the tinted window instead. "Yes."

"Are you finally going to share with me what happened last night?"

"Possibly," he said simply, before pressing his lips together into a tight, thin line.

"I saw it," she muttered, trying to keep her voice under control. It took everything not to raise her voice. "Just so you know, I saw it. Tom was waiting for me when I got in, and I saw it, he showed me it. I just want to know how you could do something like that? Or is this all truly some enjoyable game to you?"

She could almost hear Red's mind clicking into gear as he shifted slightly on the seat to look at her. She caught that little twitching thing he did, as he stared into her eyes deeply. "Saw what? What did you see, Lizzie?"

_Ah, so this was how he was going to play it. Mr. Innocent._ "Don't play dumb with me," she whispered, lowering her voice so Dembe wouldn't hear in the front seat while he drove. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Honestly, I have no idea what you are talking about, Lizzie."

"Then shall I refresh your memory?" she asked him brusquely.

"Oh, please do."

Groaning in frustration, she reached down to get her phone out from in her satchel. Then she leaned over to press her phone into his hand. "There," she hissed, "Am I now starting to make sense to you?"

He glanced down at her cell phone and Liz made sure she watched his face very clearly for any signs that he comprehended what she was saying. Disappointingly, she never found any. His expression was blank as he looked from the phone to her, raising an eyebrow. "Why are you giving me your phone, Lizzie? Is this some kind of... test?"

"You sent Tom a text message from my phone last night," she explained, anger shaking her voice. "It wasn't a very friendly text message. Frankly, I didn't find it all that funny, if that was what you were trying to accomplish."

"I never sent anything, Lizzie." He had the gall to look utterly serious and his tone was just as tricky to fault. "I'm terrible with technology. Half the time, I don't even understand how to work a cell phone, nor do I have the patience. That's why Dembe always does it for me."

"Then did you get Dembe to do it for you? As a prank on my husband?"

"No, I didn't. I mean that with all my heart. I sincerely have no idea what you are talking about. What message to Tom? What the hell did it even say?"

She couldn't see that he was lying, he looked just as confused as she did. But she was positive Red had tons of experience in deceiving people. Besides, how else could the text message of that kind be sent to her husband?

"I know _I_ wasn't the one who sent it," she went on irritatedly. "I never would have sent Tom something like that. Not ever in a million years, so either it was you who was responsible, or it was Dembe. Whichever one of you it was, I urge you both to fess up right now." She looked in Dembe's direction, only he was too preoccupied with safely driving them to whichever place Red had plans to take them for breakfast before they called into the Post Office. "Was it Dembe who did it, then?"

"I don't know, Lizzie. I'm not sure. Why don't you tell me what the message said?"

Sighing, she grabbed the phone out his hands and found the text message in her sent folder. She passed her phone back to Red, again watching his face very closely for any sign that told her he was the man responsible while he squinted and tilted his head to read the writing on the screen. For a moment, his face was completely expressionless. Then he laughed, like it was all some brilliant joke.

"At least whoever sent it was being honest," he remarked wryly, laughing again when Liz snatched her phone from him. "We did have a ball last night, Lizzie. You seemed to enjoy the company very much. In fact, you couldn't seem to keep the smile off your face. It was wonderful."

"Why was I smiling so much?" she demanded. "When are you going to give me any answers on what happened last night?"

Red rested one elbow on the side of the door and stroked around his chin with his fingertips thoughtfully, while she waited. All this not knowing was driving her crazy, in the literal sense. "The reason I haven't given you any answers, Lizzie, is because you are asking all the wrong questions. The questions you seek the answers to about last night aren't right, or as simple as you think they are. If you wish to know what happened last night, you are going to have to search deeply within yourself for the right questions."

God, he was unbelievable. "That makes no sense at all," she pointed out stiffly. "Why can't everything be so simple and straight-forward with you? I'm asking you a basic question, you just need to tell me a yes or a no."

"A yes or a no to what, Lizzie?"

She swallowed and tried not to be childish about it. "Did we have sex last night? Just tell me. Why did I come back to your hotel room after learning about Tom? What did we do?"

He stared at her intently for a few minutes, as if deliberating on how to answer, and Liz had to remind herself to remain strong and in-control. She had to know the answer, and she was going to give him hell if he didn't give it to her soon.

Red worked his jaw and opened his mouth to say something, but instead, he closed it up and simply smiled at her.

"I need a verbal answer, Red," she pleaded quietly. "Yes or no. It's as simple as that."

With a beat's worth of hesitation, Red finally said, "No."

"No?" Liz repeated, her heart surging with relief. "So that's a no to the sex question? Oh, thank God." She leaned her head back against the leather headrest in the spacious seats, breathing deeply. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. All this time she had spent panicking, and for nothing. Nothing had even happened.

"No, it wasn't a no to the sex question, Lizzie. It was more of a... no because you're asking me the wrong thing. You're phrasing it completely wrong. I don't have sex, Lizzie. I rather prefer to call it a little something like making love. What no one probably knows about me, is that I'm an old-fashioned romantic at heart." He smiled at her softly. "I believe in happy endings and love mending and taking away all the anguish and suffering and it conquering all at the end of the day. So to answer your question, no, we _definitely_ didn't have sex last night._ Making love_, however, well..."

All her muscles clenched as she lifted her head from the seat to stare at him in astonishment. Just as she was starting to feel everything was all right, he went and said something to turn it all around on its head again. She remained quiet as Dembe took them to a restaurant. She felt sick with anxiety and frustration that she couldn't seem to remember anything of what had happened last night. Red was clearly relishing confusing her and making her panic. She stared out the window, her eyes narrowed with worry, as everything flew past them. The traffic was fairly heavy at this hour of the morning and she let the scenery distract her for a good few minutes, until Dembe parked the car outside a restaurant she was familiar with that was famous for its Thai cuisine.

When Red spoke up, she felt her heart pick up a notch in speed. "Well, we're here. We have an hour before we have to get you to the Post Office, Lizzie, so let's make the most of it, shall we?"

"I thought you had somewhere you needed to be?" she shot at him softly, remembering Dembe reminding him of it before.

"I cancelled it. It wasn't important." Red pursed his lips, shrugging.

"Fine, then." Although Liz didn't feel much in the mood for breakfast, she couldn't deny this would be the perfect time to interrogate him some more.


End file.
